


A Weird Relationship | Newt X Reader (Discontinued)

by bellerame (orphan_account)



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6628030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bellerame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the not-so-often conversations and the flurry of boys in the Glade, you manage to find an interest in the one and only Newt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, what is this?
> 
> I honestly don't know. One minute I'm watching The Scorch Trials, next minute I'm reuniting myself with The Maze Runner series I got for my birthday, then fawning over the characters once again (specifically Newt), and then there's this. There was literally nothing in between, and I don't understand where it came from.
> 
> Whoops.

_Newt and you had a weird relationship._ Whereas with most of the Gladers you chatted with throughout the day during work and at bonfires and such, Newt was different. It was almost as if you didn’t have a public relationship at all.

Newt, of course, was the one to convince you out of The Box. As a girl, a shuck-ton of guys leaning over you while you were stuck in some shuck-tastic metal cage wasn’t your favorite thing in the world. He was kind to you _first_ and seemed to make a lasting imprint.

If you were to describe it, it was as if you had some sort of bond. Like a rope tying the two of you together or something. After learning all about the Glade, you could almost say you knew Newt even before the Glade. Before you were wiped of your memories, or whatever the shuck happened.

Now, a year later, the only times the two of you have ever talked was alone. Once in the Deadheads, once in your hut, and a few other times elsewhere. Now, it was almost as if you expected him to come find you when no one was around.

And it wasn’t like you just _chatted_ either. Nearly everything you spoke about was intense and _real._ Honestly, you would say that without those conversations, you might have just screamed from the knowledge of the Glade and the thought that you had no idea what was outside it.

It was weird, though, that even though you knew so many of the Gladers so well, you always felt the closest to Newt.

You’d told yourself it was the severity of the conversations you’d had in the past. No one else in the Glade had ever talked so seriously with you before, despite the one time Alby had asked to speak with you about how you were feeling at about a month-in of living in the Glade. As the only girl, you didn’t really blame him for worrying, but you were fine. By then, you’d spoken with Newt only once when he found you crying in the Deadheads. Ever since then, even though it wasn’t obvious in any way, you felt the two of you were almost inseparable.

Today was a day like any other. You worked in the Gardens casually, humming to yourself as you pulled weeds. You tossed them into a plastic, navy blue bucket with a broken handle. When it filled to the brim, you attempted to pick it up. Unfortunately, with the handle broken, lifting it became ten times as hard. After a few unsuccessful tries, a voice accompanied you.

“Need some help, love?” it asked. You glanced up once quickly, smiling as you recognized the accent. Newt.

“Yes, please,” you replied, grateful.

When he had finished carrying it off to the side, you thanked him. “So, what were you doing around here?” you asked, surprised how the small talk flowed so naturally, and how comfortable you felt. After all, you’d technically only spoken a handful of times.

“Frypan sent me to fetch you for dinner,” Newt told you. You nodded, laughing and trying to make the casual conversation sound less awkward. “Also to say that you need to stop working yourself so hard. Why didn’t you eat yesterday?” You almost sighed.

“The only reason was because the Greenie yesterday made me miss working that morning, so I had to make up for it.” You looked up at Newt and began to walk towards the Mess Hall. He followed. “I’ll have to thank him, though. He’s always looking after me. All of you are, really.” Used to your normal serious topics, you put your hands in your pockets, intently studying the flowers and weeds peeking through the stone ground. Newt chuckled at your remark, and from the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head upward as if gazing at the sky.

“What can you expect, though? Frypan’s always looking after us.” You figured he meant us as in the Gladers, but for a moment you thought he meant the two of you. For some reason, you began to think you both would make a good _us,_ whatever that meant.

A silence took over you as you walked, but it was comfortable. The slow walk gave you some time to think.

The Gladers were your family. There was no going around that, but for some reason your stomach tensed at the thought of Newt as… _family_. Not that family was a bad title, but Newt in particular made your eyebrows furrow in displeasure. And you couldn’t tell why.

When you arrived, you were greeted happily by nearly everyone there. You’d made some really good relationships in your time spent living in the Glade, and each of them meant everything to you. Most everyone was there, except for Minho, who was still out exploring The Maze. None of you were worried, though, as he was sure to take care of himself, and this was normal behavior.

You hopped in line with Newt, waiting for your turn. When you came around, Frypan, from inside the kitchen, happened to glance at you and smiled brightly. “There you are, (Y/n)!” he shouted. You smiled.

“Sorry about yesterday,” you said simply, and grabbed a plate already filled with Fry’s steaming pile of some sort of meat and sides of cut potatoes and beans. You sat down at the end table, and Newt sat down next to you, to your surprise. The two of you spent a few minutes eating, you taking out majority of the meat while he worked on finishing his vegetables.

Then, Minho walked in from outside with a smile. He pranced over to your table for a moment to greet you, then stepped into line behind Ben, another Runner. Once he finished, he plopped down right next to you.

“Hey,” he said, one hand on your shoulder as he situated his utensils.

“Hey, Minho,” Newt greeted with a smile, you doing just the same.

“How was Running?” you asked, taking another bite of meat.

“Oh, we solved The Maze, you know. Like any other day.” You laughed. He joked about the Maze all the time, and you’d grown used to his _undeniable enthusiasm._ “Gardening?”

“Like usual, too. Some more carrots are about to be ready for harvest.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you need carrots. You’ve got worse eyesight than a Griever.” His comments always seemed to lighten up the mood, but you noticed his recent ones were revolving around The Maze. Maybe he’d just had his mind occupied today.

“What about you…” you said, but when you turned around to look at Newt, he was gone. “Newt…” you finished slowly. Minho just laughed.

“Good ol’ Second-In-Command for you. That slinthead can’t stay in one place for too long any day. Always aching to _get out_.” You couldn’t help but feel that comment revolved around something other than an itch to move, but Minho simply shoveled more meat into his mouth.

“Oh, well,” you said, returning your focus to your food. A part of you felt hurt Newt would just up and leave like that after being on such good terms. And with Minho, a good friend of his, by your side too?

You supposed he just had other things to work on. Being in high authority called for high expectations, you guessed.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious yet beautiful gift... Who could it be from?

_The next time you saw Newt, he was running into The Maze with Minho._ You always woke up early, but today your inner conscious decided you needed to wake up just as the Maze doors opened. Why, you didn’t know. But from your room’s window, you watched as Minho and Newt talked for a moment outside the Map Room, threw on a nearby backpack filled with things they might need, and headed off into the North doors.

It was a sight you’d always been curious to see, the Maze was. But going in there everyday with the chance of seeing a Griever? No thanks. This time, you wouldn’t let your curiosity get the best of you.

You’d let that happen too many times before, like the time you were almost mauled by beetle blades because of what you thought it’d be like to chase one. Or the time when you’d almost fallen into the hole where The Box comes up every week. Or the time when you almost poisoned the entirety of the Glade when you’d volunteered to help Frypan. Or the time when… You get the idea.

Although, even though you were much too clumsy for your own liking, the Gladers still loved you. In fact, your own room was decorated with things of their affections. There was a drawing pinned on the wall signed with anonymous, a few vases scattered around (some with flowers you’d picked yourself in the Deadheads, but others filled with collections of several different boys), and even a bedside table with a few drawers made by Gally himself. You hadn’t expected that one.

As much as you hated to admit, you did have a favorite, though. Once, a few weeks ago, someone sat a pot filled with dirt accompanied by a small cloth baggie by your door. Immediately, your curiosity was pricked.

* * *

 " _What’s this?” you asked to yourself. You quickly opened your door then bent over to examine the pot. It was a dull blue with no decoration, but for some reason you adored the color. After all, colors were rare in the Glade._

_You picked up the small object with ease, and that was when you noticed the bag. It was transparent, and tied off with a white ribbon, a small piece of paper you assumed was a note attached. Immediately, you brought it inside, shutting the door behind you with your foot._

_You sat the pot on your bedside table, and sat down on your bed along with it. Carefully, you turned over the note to see a simple poem. It read:_

She sprouted love like flowers,

Grew a garden in her mind,

And even on the darkest days,

From her smile the sun still shined.

_You simply_  yearned _to know who it was sent from!  Who could’ve written something so beautiful, you wondered. Excitedly, you opened the clear bag to see seeds. Of course._

_This was the most extravagant gift you’d ever received! Immediately, you dug a hole in the dirt with the tips of your forefingers and slipped one of the seeds in, patting the dirt back down appropriately. You stood, planning on stopping by Frypan’s to grab a cup to fill with water._

* * *

Even still, after days of watering the young seed, it had yet to bloom. But you refused to be disheartened. Once again, you read the beautiful poem you’d pinned on the wall just above your bed. By now, you’d memorized it. It was too adorable not to. You just wondered who it was from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit of the poem to thepoeticunderground on tumblr! (I literally ADORE this dude - check him out!)
> 
> I really enjoy this idea. Do you?


End file.
